Regression

(Picture Credit - Past Life Progression Therapy by Esmart Com)

Who’s that? This man looks vaguely familiar. Some sort of doctor or therapist. Middle aged and smartly dressed. I do not know him though.

Where am I? I turn my head as best I can. I’m clearly laying on a soft couch of sorts. Yes, he must be a therapist. Others are here too.

Man (smiling): “Hello, I’m Doctor Logan Mohammed-Henderson, are you okay?”

Me: “MMM, I guess so. Where am I?”

Logan: “You are at the Leeds Institute my good man. You are perfectly safe here. What is your name?”

Me: “Paul White.”

Logan: “Paul, what is the last thing you remember?”

Me: “Err. Well, I remember I’m in a Care Home. I’ve got Dementia and I’m close to death. The last thing I remember is laying in my bed waiting to fall asleep.”

Logan: “Good. Do you know what year it is, right here, right now?

Me: “No. My memory is shocking these days!”

Logan: “It’s 2157, Paul.”

Me: “Eh? I thought it was the two thousands…”

Logan: “It was, Paul, but you are no longer in that home.”

Just noticed. I raised my arms as I was speaking. They look different! I look down. My body looks much slimmer, younger looking. Do not recognise these clothes.

Me: “My body’s all changed!”

Logan: “That’s right Paul. Do you not recall talking to me before?”

Me: “What? No I don’t.”

Logan: “Interesting. We’ve talked a fair few times now Paul. Tell you what, would you like to see yourself in a mirror?”

Me: “Yes, why not? Can’t be much weirder than these arms!”

The Doctor motions to another man, who steps near me, obviously to help me up. I’m still reeling from all this and very apprehensive now. I’ve always had something of a phobia for mirrors, so this is not good news.

I’m led into an adjacent room. Both rooms look quite “modern”, as one might expect considering the “year”. Right in the centre of this space is a full-length mirror.

And there we are. I now look like some slightly spotty, early-twenties male. I guess I just gasped in disbelief.

Me: “Why have I changed, Doctor?”

Logan: “Ah. Well that’s not easy to explain to you, Paul. Let’s go sit down and talk about it.”

They help me back to that couch.

Lady: “I’m Doctor Clara Foster. Do you want a drink, Paul?”

Me: “Er, okay, I am thirsty, can I have an orange squash please.”

With drink in hand, I’m ready for Doctor Logan to continue explaining things.

Logan: “Paul, as I say, this is hard for me to tell you. But… (he shrugs)… strictly speaking that body of ‘yours’ belongs to my client, Dave Summers.”

I can only stare at Logan in astonishment.

Logan: “Mr. Summers suffers from what you would call Multiple Personality Disorder or Dissociative Identity Disorder. You’ve heard of that, yes?”

I nod. I do not like where this is going.

Logan: “To put it bluntly, Paul, you are one of his ‘identities’…”

Me: “I can’t be, I’m a real person!”

Logan: “Hate to say this, Paul, but fact is you are a real dead person. I mean, do the Maths.”

Me: “Dead!”

Logan: “Yes, but you are real: we’ve done the research.”

Me: “Oh My God.”

Logan: “So what I’ve been doing with Mr. Summers, in my capacity as a Hypnotic Therapist, is to repeatedly regress him to one of his personalities. You, sir, are taking part in another such session.”

Me: “You say there are other, er, personalities like me?”

Logan: “Yes Paul, and most of them so far have been tracked back to real people who lived before Mr. Summers was born.”

I gasp again.

Logan: “The thing is, Paul, the trouble is with all you personalities is that you cannot recall these sessions.”

Me: “Well, you do look vaguely familiar to be fair, Doctor.

Logan: “Please call me Logan. I’d like us to be as informal as possible…”

Me: “That’s okay be me.”

Logan: “But let’s cut to the chase, as you say. I have a request to make of you.”

Me: “Request?”

Logan: “Yes, Paul. I was wondering if you would allow me to hypnotise you?”

Me: “Me???”

Logan. “Yes You. Not Dave Summers – he is already under hypnosis, but just you.”

Me: “Why?”

Logan: “Why? So that the next time I summon you, you will remember this and every subsequent session. Hopefully you will also recall everything you did whenever you “took over” Mr, Summers’ body in everyday life outside this Institute. And I’m sorry to have to press you, but this needs to be done this session, very soon.”

MMM. I have no option but to agree. Can’t go on like this, being “awakened” over and over again…

Me: “Okay. I’m up for it. Why not.”

And it is done.

Logan! He’s here again! I’m awake once more. As though never asleep.

Me: “Hello Logan.”

His beaming face is priceless.

We talk a while. Everyone is overjoyed that my hypnotism worked.

Me (presently): “What happens next, Logan?”

Logan: “I’m going to put you back to sleep soon, but the next time I awaken you, I will be asking you for a full report on whatever’s happened between sessions.”

Me: “You mean you hope I’ll remember one of my “possessions” or whatever of Dave.”

Logan: “That’s right.”

Me: “I can’t wait.”

Can’t lose here either. The least I’ll get is another awaking by The Doctor.

He puts me back to sleep.

And I’m awake.

And it’s not in the Institute.

Where am I now?

God, I seem to be in some sleazy 22^nd Century version of a night club. And I’m with some friends it seems, with a drink in front of me.

Oh well, it could have been a lot worse.

 

Paul Butters

 

© PB 16\9\2015.

Beyond Death

(Picture Credit - Matrix by Wikia com)

“Where am I?”

Have I been transferred to hospital during the night?

I raise my head. Before me is a seemingly endless row of cubicles, each containing a bed upon which some person lies. Each person wearing a helmet and wired and piped into the back wall.

To my right is the side-wall to my own cubicle. To my left an identical wall. Some male doctor is sitting next to me, to my right, and to my left there is a female nurse.

Doctor: “Welcome back Paul.”

Me: “Where am I?”

Doctor: “Reality Paul.”

Me: “Reality???”

Memories of “The Matrix” and comical “Red Dwarf” flash across my mind. MMM. Yes, I’ve still got a mind.

Nurse: “Relax Paul, everything will be all right.

Doctor: “Paul, you just died from old age, very old age, in your sleep. Best way to go.”

Me: “Really???”

Doctor: “That’s right. You really bought it didn’t you. I’m sorry, but that was not Reality! This is. And you have not really died at all. In fact, Paul you are very much alive.

Earth, The UK, London…they are all fabrications. All fiction. And all that history and science those experts told you, it was all wrong. Only this is real!”

He gestures at everything around us as he speaks. But now he reaches for a dial on a console next to my bed.

Doctor: “When we put you into ‘Earthworld’ Paul, all your memories of reality were temporarily erased. But now it’s time to debrief. Now it’s time for you to Remember The Truth…”

And he turns the dial…

 Paul Butters

Planet Paradise

(Picture Credit - Zastavki com)

“What a beautiful world!” enthused Lieutenant James Sandford, “How could anything go wrong there?”

Captain David Black: “Believe me, Jimmy, it almost certainly has! When you have to rescue the rescuers, you know you got trouble.”

Sue Smith (Science Officer): “But Sir, there’s no sign of alien technology down there, no active volcanoes or ‘quakes. The weather is perfect everywhere…”

Black: “I’m afraid we have to assume the worst. Aliens with stealth technology, super-viruses, all manner of deadly life-forms. We’re going to have to behave like we’re landing on a plague infested Venus or Pluto.”

The captain was right of course. We hadn’t lost an exploration ship with 500 crew members and their would-be rescuers for nothing. Most people knew Captain Tom Henderson and his intrepid rescue crew: they would be the last team to come unstuck on a recovery mission. Yet they had lost radio contact with Tom and company as soon as they’d touched down. Something was wrong, very wrong. Yet looking at that planet, rightly called “Paradise”, on that viewscreen made everything seem so surreal.

There was nothing surreal about what happened next. Their star-battleship “The Invincible” was in a parking-orbit over Paradise. So the three of them plus four more crew-members donned armoured suits. This wasn’t too popular amongst them: these suits were bulky and heavy. They could indeed withstand the furnace-heat and pressure of Venus, or the ice-cold of Pluto. The captain wasn’t taking any chances. The team were to land together in their most heavily armoured shuttlecraft.

After a routine flight, they landed in a lovely tropical-forest clearing. They were getting a single distress-signal from about 2 miles away. A simple walk through the jungle would bring them to their target.

Five of the seven set off, led by Dave, the captain. Although the atmosphere was perfectly breathable and the weather gorgeous, they were not allowed to open their visors. Within two minutes they were all glad of these seemingly over-the-top precautions.

Suddenly they were surrounded by a harsh buzzing sound and engulfed by a great cloud of wasps! They were under attack! The flame-thrower was deployed, but made little impact in such a massive cloud of insects.

Dave: “Let’s keep going! Maybe we can out-walk them.”

Again the Captain was right. As the team left the “territory” of the wasps, that deadly swarm just let them go.

Dave: “Okay, we’re clear. Sue, check the damage please.”

Sue: “Yes Sir…MMM, suits show superficial bite damage. We seem to have ourselves some ‘Piranha Wasps’. Don’t think a regulation suit would have withstood them.”

Dave: “Imagine if you’d had your visor open, or your helmet off! Better press on.”

So they began to slash their way through the jungle.

A yell! They all turned. Sam Mohammed at the back was gone, yet they could hear him shouting! There he was: about fifteen feet in the air, hanging from some giant flower! Instinctively they all turned their laser-guns onto the great stalk that had evidently pounced on poor Sam. Thankfully those guns were effective and they were soon helping Sam to his shaky feet. This planet was looking worse and worse.

At the next clearing they rested and took stock of the situation. It was well established that “Paradise” was teeming with a fantastic variety of life. Most of the planet was a tropical paradise. However, it was clear now that much of that life was deadly to Mankind. For years we had wished to find a world so verdant and full of life. But as the saying goes, be careful what you wish for.

Sam: “Hey guys! The trees look closer!”

They were! In fact the trees were now moving, hemming them in!

The flame-thrower was deployed. These trees were on the attack. Laser-guns were fired in futile self-defence.

Dave (on radio): “Mayday! Mayday! Under attack! From…trees!”

The trees kept coming, waving their branches in a wild fury. But then the shuttle appeared overhead and opened fire on the trees with battle-laser-cannon. It worked. The trees backed off then squeezed their way back through the “normal” jungle.

Dave (on radio): “Thanks lads. Better keep covering us up there.”

“Aye Aye Captain!” came the radio-reply from Debbie on board the shuttle.

At last they reached their objective: a small cave located on a quiet-looking hillside. Dave entered first. He kept shouting, “Anyone home?”

Presently a dishevelled head appeared from around a corner: Tom Henderson.

Tom: “Stay back! Who are you?”

Dave: “I’m Dave Black. Here to rescue you Tom.”

Tom: “Are you real? Or are you bastard Mentoids messing with my mind again?”

Dave: “We’re real, Tom.”

Tom: “No you’re not, it’s a fracking trap isn’t it? Go away!”

A blast rang out from behind Dave. It was a stun-gun. Tom fell but Dave caught him.

Jimmy: “Hope that was okay Sir. I thought he might get dangerous.”

Dave: “Yes thanks Jimmy. Right call soldier.”

They carried Tom outside.

Dave: “Six to beam up Debbie. I’m not taking any more chances.”

A few hours later, Dave visited Tom on “The Invincible” in sick-bay.

Dave: “So tell me Tom, who or what are these ‘Mentoids’?”

Tom: “They are the pits, Dave. Evil locals with scary mental powers. They put on a reception committee when we landed. Appeared as friendly humanoids. Led us into a trap. Later they showed up as shiny yellow orbs. Telepathy, telekinesis, teleportation…they have the lot. Okay so they let me live so I could ‘warn others’ but that’s the only good I have to say about them.”

A crew member dashed in now.

Dave: “Yes, Ensign Rogers?”

Rogers: “Sir, we’ve found the black boxes.”

A few weeks later Dave and Tom were sitting before an Enquiry Commission back on Earth. Admiral Stephen Jones was Chair.

Jones: “Man-eating wasps and plants, trees like Triffids, super-shape-shifters with incredible mental powers…all manner of dangers. Have I missed anything gentlemen?”

Dave: “Apparently there were some enormous dinosaurs roaming around too sir. Then there were the flying fish, the killer spiders… But worst of all, sir, in some areas there were deadly bacteria and viruses which nearly contaminated our ship.”

Jones: “Would it be fair to say, then, that this planet is just too ‘lively’ for human habitation?”

Tom: “Yes, Sir.”

Jones: “Agreed. It pains me to say this, ladies and gentlemen, but I have to declare the planet ‘Paradise’ off-limits. Any objections anyone?

There was silence.

 

Paul Butters

Hyperdrive

(Picture Credit - Top1walls com)

They were returning home in triumph. Twenty professional space explorers on board the prototype “Hyperdrive” Space craft “Santa Maria”. In an instant they had appeared in the Alpha Centauri solar system. For a month they had made a host of remarkable discoveries in a totally alien realm. Now they were back orbiting the Earth, ready to share what they’d found.

The Hyperdrive worked in a very simple way. It briefly took them out of our space-time continuum and then put them back wherever they chose. They could go anywhere in the universe in fact. A wonderful feat of science. And now they were ready to tell the world about it.

But Captain Dave Smith was frowning. Indeed everyone in the Control Room was looking perplexed. Grant on radio was frantically switching channels.

Dave: “Better get Matt Cox up here, we need a translation.”

Lisa (Second in Command): “That sounds like Latin Sir.”

Dave: “I’m bloody sure it’s Latin. What the hell’s going on?”

A few hours later, all the senior staff were gathered round a table in the conference room.

Dave: “Right ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for your reports. We’ll start with you, Maddy.”

Maddy: “Thanks Dave. Well, as you know it’s early days yet. There is almost no end of data to study. But there is absolutely no doubt: the Earth has changed. The whole world is now governed from Rome, by the Roman Empire. It is self-evident that on this Earth the Roman Empire never fell and in fact went on to colonise the whole world. On this Earth there is no USA, Russia, UK, France… very few of our nations remain…”

Dave: “Okay, Maddy, we’ll get back to you. Jacob, your analysis?”

Jacob: “Right. Well, we have two theories. The first is that somehow we have changed the timeline and lost Earth as we know it. That’s the worst case scenario. And the second theory is that when we left hyperspace we transported ourselves into the wrong dimension, so to speak. If so, it is possible that the Alpha Centauri we visited was the wrong one also.”

Dave: “What can we do about it Jacob?”

Jacob: “Our only possible action, Sir, is to figure out what went wrong with the Hyperdrive, and correct it.”

Dave: “Over to you, John.”

John: “We are already working on that Sir. What I will say, though, is that we are on our own with this. Maddy and her team have shown conclusively that these here Romans have only reached our 1930s technology at best. It would seem that fewer wars under the Romans meant slower technological progress on this Earth. We can, er, procure some hardware from them, but that is all.

Dave: “All I can do is ask you to do your best, John. You’d better get straight on with it.”

A few weeks later Dave was all smiles. John’s “Hyperdrive Team” had come up with a solution. The ship had returned to hyperspace then re-appeared in orbit above the world we all know. They had radioed in to HQ and been answered by colleagues they know. A course was being laid in for a landing; everyone was ready to party.

But then Lisa entered the Control Room.

Lisa: “Sir, we have a problem.”

Dave: “What?”

Lisa: “We’ve just recorded this News Bulletin…”

Briskly, Lisa went to a screen and pressed a few buttons. On came a news bulletin.

News Reader: “Good afternoon. Preparations have been completed now for next week’s “Beatles Reunion” at the World Trade Centre…”

The footage showed what was clearly an aerial view of the Twin Towers in New York!

News Reader: “Yes, they may be old-age pensioners now, but John, Paul and Ringo still have what it takes. Here’s what John had to say about it…”

(Cut to) John Lennon: “We are really looking forward to the show. Our only sadness is that George didn’t make it…”

Dave: “Turn it off.”

Lisa complied.

Dave: “I’m afraid it’s back to the drawing board. Get John up here.”

 

Paul Butters

First Contact

(Picture Credit - First Contact by Screengoblin)

 

“Ah, do come in Professor Nelson!” smiled John Sheriff, “This is something you have to see.”

“Thank You,” replied the professor, “That’s Bob to you John.”

Bob was swiftly ushered to a seat before an impressive view screen.

John: “We recorded this yesterday, Bob.”

An attendant pressed the “Play” button and on came a video. It showed John sitting watching the same screen. But that screen was the face of someone humanoid but not human. A conversation began:

John: “Qued ratha nal debaquo Keevark?”

Keevark: “I am fine John. I must say you have mastered our language well. But I’m happy to talk with you in English today. I have much to explain.”

John: “Okay Keevark, but our linguists will be disappointed!”

“Freeze!” snapped John in real time, and the video was duly “paused”.

Bob: “You’ve been talking with aliens?” (His face said it all).

John: “Yes Bob. Non-humans for sure. We made first contact about six months ago. As I said there our translating team have done a fine job. And no, the government would not allow us to go public on this.”

Bob: “Truly amazing. I never dreamt… But why do you need my help?”

John: “You’ll see in a minute Bob. To say we are having trouble locating these aliens is rather an understatement. Please resume there Simon.”

Simon pressed “Play” again and the onscreen conversation resumed.

Keevark: “Let me cut to the chase, as you say. You recall, John, that when you asked what solar system we are from, I had no idea what you meant. Your concept ‘planet’ is baffling too. We all know the world is flat, so this ‘spheres’ business had my bosses baffled. Anyway, here is something that might help: new images from our latest space probe!”

Suddenly another picture filled the screen. It was an exterior view, of clouds! And then the faint outlines of some high-looking structure appeared. That structure got closer, but then it seemed that the spaceship veered to starboard. Eventually there was a view of what looked like buildings ahead before the whole picture broke up. Keevark reappeared onscreen.

Keevark: “That’s the best shot we’ve ever had of ‘God’s Tower’ John, and now we’ve glimpsed the ‘Heavenly City’!”

John: “So that was a ‘space flight’ film?”

Keevark: “Yes John. Our scientists are very excited.”

John: “Thanks Keevark. Leave that with us my friend. Our scientists will be keen to analyse this. Will get back to you.”

The screen went blank. John turned to the attendant, “Okay Simon, show Bob the magnified version of that ‘space’ video please.”

Simon duly pressed the relevant buttons. There was that tall building again. But now it was a clearer, enhanced image, of a television mast! And as the video rolled on it became equally clear that they were viewing a country village. As the view got nearer they could make out the first building of that village: “The Rose and Crown” pub! Then the picture broke up.

John: “Amazing eh Bob? And we now know exactly where this is! It’s a village called Everthorpe. We have a crew there now. They are camped on the very source of Keevark’s TV transmission.”   

Bob: “They’ve found his transmitter?”

John: “More than that Bob, we’ve pinpointed where his world is. Trouble is, there seems to be nothing there. That’s where you come in. Do you want to come and look?”

Bob: “Would love to. But I’ve got a hunch we’re going to need a microscope.”

John looked puzzled. Then his face changed as the penny dropped.

Hours later Bob, John and some others were hunched over a very large electronic microscope. The instrument was aimed at a big flat slimy rock on the moors near Everthorpe.

Bob: “Got it!”

He pulled all sorts of faces as he examined his findings. “Come and have a look John,” he suggested.

John looked at the mini-screen. He was looking down at a modern-looking city!

Bob: “No wonder you couldn’t find them John. I reckon that our bacteria are their mice. In fact these people could almost be described as a species of bacteria. No wonder they still think the world is flat.”

John: “Amazing! So small, yet they’ve reached our 1950s technology. And they even look like us. This is going to take some explaining to Keevark, not to mention our government.”

Bob: “Sure is. Best of luck with that John.”

 

Paul Butters

Campus Two - Into the Field

(Picture Credit - Starship Troopers Header by freakinrobot dot com)

 

In "Campus" my friends and I suddenly found ourselves on a mystery campus learning a lively curriculum. Then we found we were on the moon of an unknown gas giant planet. Could anything stranger happen? Well of course…

OMG. Here we go again!

I awake on a bunk-bed, somewhere amongst rows and rows of bunk-beds. This vast dormitory is well-lit by electric lighting, but there are no windows.

Where the hell are we?

Alarms are sounding. Lots of moans and groans everywhere. It is clear that many people are being awakened at once.

Last night I went to sleep in my room, in the residential hall, just as I had for months. It had been a great shock for some of my friends and I to find ourselves on some mysterious campus on the remote moon of an unknown gas giant planet. But we had adapted. We had cooperated with our “student guides” and got stuck into some deep study. When they asked us to go through regular “assault courses” like army cadets we had accepted the challenge.

But now, just as we are accustomed to campus life, I find myself here!

“Get up all of you!” shouts someone loudly.

I’m wearing some sort of thick suit! It whirrs mechanically, exaggerating all my movements.

“Grab your helmets! The Captain is waiting to Brief you all! Head for the door! Come on you idle lot!” continues that voice.

Once out of the bunk I see the main door, a long way down the aisle. I am glad to see all my friends too, even though they are wearing the same cumbersome-looking armoured-suits.

Presently The Captain stands before us all, in a great hall and makes his address.

The Captain: “Welcome to The Intrepid, Troopers. I am sorry that your transition here was so sudden, but you will have to deal with it. This is the finest Star-Battleship in the fleet.

We are now in orbit over the planet ‘Mordant’, home-world of our enemy, a race of evil aliens known as ‘The Sligs’. You must have wondered how you came to be on The Campus. Well I can tell you now what happened.

A few years ago The Sligs invaded and conquered Earth. All of you were enslaved, but they wiped your memories so that you would not be aggrieved. Every one of you here was put into cold-storage for future ‘use’. But we the rebels managed to thwart their plans for you. We ‘kidnapped’ you all and eventually brought you to The Campus. Now you are ready for the most important mission in the history of Mankind: to take out The Sligs on their very home world…”

The Captain outlines our mission. Before long he releases us and we clamber onto countless space landing-craft. All too soon I have my helmet on as I run along a wooded, alien plain towards those dreaded Sligs. Talk about a “Star Ship Trooper”! I wish I’d played those computer games now. “Shots” are being fired all over the place. The battle lasts for hours. Must fight this exhaustion and keep going.

Suddenly I’m falling! I land with a heavy bump. There is a yell. It’s Sarah! All is quiet.

“Over here Sarah!” I shout.

It is evident that we have both failed to see this crevasse and fallen straight down the thing. I crawl through the shrubbery, bruised but not broken. And I find Sarah! Her piping voice is unmistakeable. The battle continues above us as we try to climb back up into the fray.

Then I see something. Further along the crevasse: looks like a great piece of cloth, with bumps underneath. I point this out to Sarah. We decide to go down and take a look.

As we sneak round some bushes we see that it is a whole gathering of cloths. A head appears! It is human!

“Oh My God!” yells Sarah.

Instantly about six heads spring up from beneath the covers: all women and children.

Child: “Sligs!”

“We ain’t Sligs!” I yell, “We are human.”

They clearly have guns pointed at us.

A woman: “You must be Sligs. Your uniforms…”

Sarah: “You are the Sligs. This is your home world.”

Same Woman: “Do we look like Sligs?”

Impulsively I free my helmet and remove it.

“Do we look like Sligs?” I ask.

A collective gasp is released by these people.

Another woman: “You fools! This is not the Slig home world, this is Earth! Oh My God, don’t you see? You’ve been killing your own people!”

Sarah removes her helmet and speaks: “I’m so, so sorry. We had no idea. They told us we were invading the Slig home-world.”

I now notice it is quiet above. But further down this tight little valley I see battle-suits approaching us, in Slig colours.”

“So they are human?” I ask, pointing.

They all nod.

“Sarah, let’s get out of these things, now! We’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

As we struggle to get out of our armoured suits, with the children helping us, the first Woman addresses us: “I’m Eve. Welcome to The Resistance.”

The soldiers appear.

Eve (to first soldier): “Look, they are human! Will you raise your visor and show them you are human too? They will not believe me.”

The soldier raises his visor, and the expression on his face is priceless.

Mission accomplished. For now.

 

Paul Butters

Earthquake

(Picture Credit - Earthquake by ExtinctionProtocol NZ)

What a shock! An Earthquake in England. Even a small volcano. An unexpected event after millions of years of almost complete stillness. Buildings fell, people died, and for quite a while there was chaos. Many stories to tell.

The epicentre of all this carnage was somewhere up in The Yorkshire Dales. This earthquake left one particularly massive scar: a deep ravine revealing the interior of The Earth. It was here that an even more amazing story was soon played out.

Once all the dust had settled, Tim Torrance and his team of scientists and cavers set out to plumb the depths of that crevasse. Their objective was simple: to find out exactly what was down there. It was estimated by geologists that many millions of years of our past would be revealed to the scientific world.

Tim had to keep that great objective in mind as he made his way down this sheer cliff-face like a tiny money-spider slipping down a skyscraper. The cruel wind kept buffeting him savagely as he dangled precariously on those ropes. What a relief when he reached the bottom, even in that impenetrable blackness.

Presently they were “all correct” and ready to explore this abyss. Well, it turned out to be more of a deep gully actually. Geologists took many samples as they made their way along one side of the rift.

“These rocks are about two hundred thousand years old. That’s as old as Mankind!” purred one of the geologists.

Their head-lamps showed them the way as they crawled along the bottom of this seemingly endless Hades.

Suddenly a surprise! A Multiple Reflection! Like a star-cluster their head-lamps were reflected back at them! Metal! A wall of metal.

They hurried closer to that wall. Then all gasped. It was the wall, well the “hull” actually, of an ancient-looking spaceship! There was no doubt about it. All its projections and curves, its thrusters and antennae. Definitely a “spaceship”. Oh My God!

It was Tim who went first, walking right up there to examine the hull. The others soon followed.

Somebody yelled! An eight foot high door had slid open. Tim shot over to see for himself. They were dazzled by the lighting from…an airlock.

“Bob, Anne, Dave come with me!” snapped Tim, mustering his best “leader” composure. They collectively nodded and followed him in.

“Oh No!” exclaimed Anne as the door closed behind them.

“Oh My God!” she then half-screamed as the inner door opened.

“Welcome Visitors,” boomed a computer-like Voice from all around them, “Please enter the Embarkation Room”.

“Shall we?” queried Bob.

“Yes, follow me. We have to trust it,” replied Tim, firmly.

“How come it speaks English?” asked Dave.

The “computer” replied instantly: “I am the ‘ships computer Dave. Call me ‘George’ if you will. I am equipped with a ‘Universal Translator’ which works by, if you don’t mind this, reading your thoughts and all the language you carry in your heads. ‘If you don’t mind’ – ah – I accidentally made a joke there.

You don’t even smile. Ah, I see, you are bothered…”

Instantly the outer door slid open.

“There. You have complete freedom of choice. But you are welcome to come in. I have had to wait over two hundred thousand years for this.”

Within minutes Tim and the others found themselves on “the bridge”, standing before a huge screen. They were interrupted, however, by a low roar and a shaking of the floor beneath their feet.

“Do not worry my friends,” purred George, “I have just started my engines to produce electricity for full functionality. Nobody will be affected. I have also sent up a beacon, to contact my Users.”

Sure enough, a minute or so later one of Tim’s team dashed in, with a graphic account of that probe flying up out of the crevasse. But they were soon interrupted.

“I have contact with my Users,” announced George, “Our President will speak with you now”.

The great screen crackled to life and was filled with a sky-blue background.

Oh my God. We are about to speak to some Alien President!

A clear picture sprang into being. And there, before them, was the image of a young Man.

“Hello my friends. I am President Tegrin, speaking from the planet ‘Eden’, your ancestral home-world. It is wonderful news, to re-establish contact with you after two hundred thousand of your years,” boomed the voice, all around Tim and his party.

“Home World?” queried Tim, “I thought this was our home world, here on Earth. What do you mean?”

“Ha!” replied Tegrin, “I’m afraid, Tim, you require a history lesson. Our Original Home-World was called ‘Heaven’, though not to be confused with the Heaven of your ‘God’. Eden was inhabited later. Then we sent a mission to your ‘Earth’ as you call it. The spaceship you stand on, called ‘Discovery’, ran into trouble and had to crash-land. Its crew evidently used the escape-pods.”

“How do you know all that?” demanded Tim, “We’ve only been in contact a few minutes.”

“It must be so,” declared Tegrin, “Discovery’s scanners clearly show that you have exactly the same DNA as us!”

“If I may interject,” boomed George now, “My logs confirm, Tim, that the crew indeed ejected over the continent you now call Africa.”

Everybody gasped. The implications of “Africa” were all too obvious.

“But,” continued George, “I must point out one major difference in your genomes compared with those of Eden, you people of Earth. Before they used the escape-pods, Captain Adam had his crew genetically ‘made-mortal’. He assessed that, being stranded on Earth they would have to breed, but he didn’t want them to overpopulate the planet…”

“That is correct George,” interrupted President Tegrin, “We of the ‘League of Planets’ are all immortal. Captain Adam dutifully followed procedure by sacrificing his immortality, along with the rest of his crew.

But enough of history. We have shocked you and your crew enough for one day, Tim. I repeat, yes, you and all that you call ‘Mankind’ are indeed descendants of Captain Adam and his team. George, there is ample room for you to fly all these good people to the surface, ready for them to introduce you to the authorities there. If that’s okay with you Tim?”

“That’s fine,” agreed Tim, “I think we’ve more than accomplished our mission.”

“Good,” concluded Tegrin, “And, if you wish, Tim, George may then make you or anyone there who wants it Immortal, as a gesture of our good faith.”

“As The President says Tim,” affirmed George, “It is a painless procedure. A few simple gene rearrangements. Your wish is my command. I think you had better call in the rest of your team first though Tim. We have a little flight to take.”

Tim complied.

 

Paul Butters